Who hunts whom? (LadyElvenarcher)

“You’re kidding?”

“I’m not.”

Two men sat at the large wooden table, each eyeing the other with keen interest. The first man was large, uneasy, and somewhat disoriented. He had in front of him a half empty glass of beer and two more which had long since gone untouched. He ran a few fingers worriedly through his orange beard and swirled his tongue around his mouth.

The second man was much more composed, albeit slightly curious. He had in his hand a tall glass of water and was sipping from it sporadically. His brown hair had been taken by the wind and was both untidy and unkempt. Where the first man was dressed in a grey t-shirt and jeans, the second was dressed more warmly for travel. He wore a black jacket over a black, long sleeve shirt.

“That’s an awful large amount of money,” said the sober man, finally. He took a drink from his water and looked down at the table. “How terrible can these people possibly be?”

“You saw for yourself just how much trouble they can cause,” replied the drunkard. The first man’s thoughts flashed back to his earlier encounter.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the bartender.

The man shook his head. “I’m not from much of anywhere, to tell the truth.”

The old, jovial man smiled and handed him a bottle of water and a glass. “Especially not England, I’m guessin’ from the accent?” The customer shook his head. “Well, welcome to Lichfield. Got a name, son?”

“The name’s Dimitri,” the man replied, pouring himself some water. “Demmy, for short.”

“Pleased to have you, Dimitri.” As the bartender finished talking, the door to the small pub swung open and crashed against the stopper. Everyone in the bar turned in horror to look at the door, Demmy included. In from the dark streets walked three figures clad chiefly in black.

“What are you sods gaping at? The whole lot of you, turn the **** around before I spy an ugly mug I don’t particularly like. And you, fatso,” he yelled, pointing at the bartender, “get out the ****ing welcome tray. We’re getting bloody loaded tonight.”

Demmy turned back around to take a sip of his water, laughing at the man’s heavily British accent. Dead silence followed his smallest of snickers.

“What’s that?” asked one of the three men. “I think I just heard some unlucky bloke whisper, ‘Rip my testicles off, if you please.’ Always happy to oblige. Now which one of you bastards feels like getting his face punched in?”

Demmy laughed, this time loud enough to make it obvious. “You know,” he started, turning around, “as funny as it is, you don’t sound nearly as much like Doctor Who as I thought you would.”

The man was visibly taken aback. He was a short but muscular man with pale skin and spiky black hair. “Alright, wise guy, your turn to die.”

“Gentlemen, we don’t need to fight. Let’s just all sit and drink. Free drinks on the house for everyone.” Not a cheer was heard.

The shorter man frowned but nodded. “Porky’s right. We do need somewhere to drink tonight. Take the bastard outside.” Demmy was surprised as four very strong hands gripped his arms. Before he could protest, he was off the ground and being carried through the door. He chuckled as the two men threw him to the ground immediately outside the bar.

“Oh, come on. We can all handle this maturely, can’t we?” asked Demmy, standing to his feet. As soon as he was on his feet, a gloved fist collided with his cheek and sent him hurtling back to the ground.

“You’re obviously new to Staffordshire, so we’ll make this as quick for you as we can,” exclaimed the shorter man, who was obviously the dominant of the three. “You’ll barely feel a thing, I promise.” The other two laughed to themselves.

“Maybe not, but you’re in for a hell of a lot of hurt,” Demmy shot back as he stood up once more.

The man turned to his two subordinates and barked, “Kill him!”

One of the three men advanced on Demmy. He was much paler than the other two and had a look of desperation about him. His punch was slower and more predictable than that of his companion. Tired of being thrown around, Demmy threw up his own hand to catch the attack. He was determined to make this quick.

“Ooh, a little fire in him,” spat the man. His smug air disappeared rather quickly as Demmy’s grip tightened on his hand, crushing the bones in his fingers. “He’s not human!” shouted the struggling man to his friends. As the other two moved in, Demmy brought the elbow of his other arm down upon the man’s extended limb. With a sickening crunch, the man’s arm broke in two.

The rest of the fight passed by in an instant. Demmy let go of the man’s hand and threw a chilling kick to his head, sending him flying. The other two paused in disbelief. The taller man was the first to recover from his shock. He pounced at Demmy and the two men fell to the gravel. As Demmy felt the other man draw a knife, he intercepted the hand and dug it through his assailant’s stomach.

The third man remained frozen as Demmy got to his feet. “I’m guessing you’re not human either, then?” The man remained silent. “Take these two and leave. I’ll give you thirty seconds. Believe me: if you don’t get the hell out of here, you’ll all be dead in under a minute.”

The man hesitated, but his two friends quickly complied. One man was already fleeing into the distance with a broken arm and the other was in hot pursuit, tending to wounds in his stomach. The third scowled. “You’ve done it now. Consider this entire town as good as dead. They have till dawn tomorrow. Blame yourself.” With those final words, he took off running into the blackness of night.

By that time, every single patron had crowded around the window. A round of applause was heard upon his reentry. After turning down a myriad of free drinks, Demmy sat down with a man who called himself Gerald. Despite his heavy intoxication, he seemed to be a nice man. He had orange hair and a large, bushy beard.

“So will you do it?” asked Gerald.

Demmy sighed. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You’ll have the entire police force backing you up, plus anyone who owns a gun.”

Everyone in the bar was now pretending to have their own conversations. In reality, however, they were all listening with unmatched intrigue. “Why me?” questioned Demmy at last.

“Because,” shouted the bartender from across the room, “you’re the only person who’s ever scared them. The police refuse to touch them ever since the slaughter five years ago. No one ever thought we could stand up to them, but you proved tonight that they’re not stronger than everyone.”

“A gang of vampires,” mused Demmy to himself. “Alright, I’ll do it, but I’ll do it alone.” The room remained silent.

Gerald shook his head. “Don’t be daft. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“You wounded a few, but there’s dozens of ‘em. They’ve got themselves an old castle a couple miles south of here. You could never take them all on your own.”

“I think I can manage,” replied Demmy with a grin. He stood and pushed his chair back. As he rose, his hand was outstretched in front of him. Floating a few inches above his open palm was his empty glass. The glass then proceeded to float, as if by magic, over to the bartender. “Thank you for the offer, but I can handle this myself, rest assured.”

He threw some money onto the table and turned to leave. The bartender stopped him. “If you can, kill the one named Michael Lucine. As far as we know, he’s the head of the clan. Kill him and the rest of them fall apart, hopefully.”

"Thanks."

~

OoC - Sorry that was so terribly long winded.

OoC: I forgive you for being long-winded. This post is a bit long (though, not nearly as long as yours), as well, but after this, mine shouldn't be that long.

IC:

Vampire hunters are not accorded a life of luxury. If anything, the unwritten contract that bound Isaiah Blackbourne to the Church of England emphatically promised the grime and discomfort associated with his work. He had been raised, though, to appreciate the lesser things and shun the material finery of the world, which was probably why he was not protesting his concealment in a large hawthorn. The thorny branches were thick enough to act as cover and provided the additional benefit of being a natural deterrent to those he watched.

The hawthorn was about a hundred meters away from a hill crowned with a large castle. Tamworth Castle. The structure’s private owner had literally crawled into Arundel on his hands and knees, begging Mallory to rid Tamworth of its new insidious occupants. Money had been no object. Isaiah had been the natural choice.

For the past two days, the hunter had done nothing but watch the castle, observing the comings and goings of his assigned prey. From what he could tell, this was a relatively small grouping. Though, by no means did that mean it did not present a threat, especially to the nearby cities and towns.

Isaiah thoughtfully rolled one of his prayer beads between his thumb and index finger, casting a glance up to see the image of the half-moon broken among the branches. Two days is long enough. Any longer in this bloody shrub, and I’ll go mad.

With only minor difficulties, he extracted himself from the hawthorn. Assured that all of his tools were still securely in place, Isaiah took a moment to run his gaze over Tamworth now that he was free of the thorns’ obstruction. The scent of blood hung over it like a shroud. He brushed his fingers over his pistol.

The sound of frantic running broke through the silence, and Isaiah turned just in time to see three vampires—two of them appearing wounded—burst from the nearby brush. The hunter slid ‘Nex from its holster and fired two consecutive shots at the group. One remedied the previously unwounded state of the lead runner, hitting him in his left thigh and causing him to collapse shrieking. The vampire bleeding from his stomach took the other bullet straight through his skull and dropped dead.

The third vampire was running crazed circles around his leader when Isaiah approached. He saw Isaiah and threw up his hands defensively, sputtering out words. “Wh-who are you? D-don’t kill me, d-don’t kill—!” Another shot rang out and silenced him permanently.

Isaiah knelt down next to the writhing leader and put ‘Nex against the vampire’s temple. He was met with hisses and wide, furious eyes. “Damn hunter...damn hunter!”

“Quiet. If you answer my questions, I will kill you quickly.” Isaiah unsheathed one of his silver daggers and dug it into the vampire’s upper arm. The resulting pained howls gave him a small measure of satisfaction. “How many of you are in that castle?”

The vampire mustered enough gall to spit in Isaiah’s face. “I won’t tell you anything. Who sent you, you bloody bastard?”

Isaiah considered the vampire’s face for a moment. Then he leaned close to it and with cold softness said, “God.”

A final pull of the trigger banished the nightwalker to hell where he belonged. Isaiah cleaned his dagger on the grass and replaced it in its sheath. He stood to his feet and stared in the direction from which the three had come—northwest. Lichfield was in that direction, he knew.

...What inflicted those wounds?

That was not his concern, though. He had a castle to purge. With his pistol held loosely in his left hand, he moved wraith-like toward the hill.

Demmy’s mouth hung gaping for a moment as he stared in awe at the castle. It was bigger than he’d expected. The castle had been built towards the end of the 14th century and was of a more modern design than some of its less resilient kin. Over the centuries, it had been renovated several times. It had become as much a mansion as a castle. It had an exquisitely furnished interior and an impressive courtyard.

Up until recently, the entire property had received the necessary care. In the past months, however, its new tenants had been less than gentle.

Standing along one of the outside walls, Demmy wondered what the best entrance might be. He wanted so very badly to just knock out one of the castle’s back walls with a massive psychic boom, but thought that it would be neither stealthy nor inexpensive.

Just as Demmy thought he might jump over one of the four storey walls, a man’s figure emerged slowly over its edge. As he looked down into the darkness and perceived the figure of a man in the dim moonlight, an unseen force pulled him over the edge of the castle’s wall. The vampire landed with a thud on the ground.

“Not a word,” Demmy commanded, psychically silencing the man. “Listen carefully. I’m looking for someone named Michael Lucine. Is he in there?” The vampire hissed and spat at Demmy, baring his fanged teeth.

Demmy frowned as he wiped the saliva from his face. It seemed his hostage was going to be an uncooperative one. Smiling a little at this, Demmy invaded the mind of the demon with an assault of psychic energy. As he recalled his victim’s memories and analysed his thoughts, he was disappointed to learn that this vampire knew very little about his gang’s leader. He was much more surprised by the sheer animosity and hatred that assaulted him as he probed the man’s mind.

“You’ve got some sick thoughts, kid. Are you all this angry all the time?” he asked, taking a few steps back from the struggling prisoner. After a few feet, he let go of his hold on the vampire. There was a loud hiss as the vampire jumped to his feet.

“I’ll kill you!” screamed the monster as he lunged at Demmy, who was prepared. The two rolled backwards and Dimitri kicked the demon off of him. He rolled to his feet and was ready to meet the second attack of the vampire. They struggled for a moment before the man threw Demmy into the wall. He managed to lower his head just in time to avoid the fist, which hit the wall with a deafening crunch.

“Too slow,” taunted Demmy, circling his foe. The vampire threw a punch at his aggressor but was surprised to see that the human evaded without any trouble. No matter how fast his fist flew, the other man pulled his head back twice as quickly.

“What are you?!” he demanded, trying and failing to land a kick.

“Impatient.” After dodging another swing, Demmy extended his arm and grabbed the vampire by the throat. The other man struggled but could not loosen the grip on his neck. He groaned as his entire body was lifted off the ground. “You guys never stay dead for long, do you?”

The vampire feebly shook his head.

“Good. When you learn a thing or two, come back for seconds.” His hand snapped shut with crushing force, his fingers collapsing the neck of his enemy. He discarded the body and wiped the blood from his hand. Without a second thought, he jumped and landed on the roof of the castle.

“Holy ****.” They were everywhere.

Isaiah ascended the hill, flitting between the sparse tangles of brush that dotted its side. His destination was the small door that served as the castle’s only entrance—from what he had seen, at any rate. Now that he was getting a closer look at it, the door wasn’t as impressive as he had expected it to be. He could not be bothered with aesthetics, though, for a group of four more vampires lounged just outside. The wind blew their stench to him, and he curled his lip in mild disgust.

“Hey,” one of them said in a thick Cockney accent. “Where d’you suppose that bloke Tommy’s run off to? He said he’d be back by now, an’ I’m tired of waiting out ‘ere for him.”

One of his companions turned his head and hissed. “D’you wanna get your head ripped off? Shut your trap and quit complaining. If you wanna go back inside and explain to him why you’re not out ‘ere doin’ your job, that’s your decision. But don’t you dare mention me.”

The first one rolled his eyes and kicked at a rock near his foot. “It’s not fair that none of the rest of us get to go out. Why can’t we just go out to hunt for ourselves instead of sending out these little parties? It’s just not the same if you don’t get to pick out your own meal.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened slightly. This meant there might be a few more vampires inside than the handful he had estimated. He was concerned only to a small degree, but nonetheless, worry did scratch at the back of his mind. Perhaps he should have observed the castle for longer than two days...

One of the vampires stiffened, and Isaiah swore silently. The wind had shifted. There was no time to hope they would not have noticed his unique scent. Tightening his grip on ‘Nex, the hunter pulled a dagger from his hip and launched it straight into the nearest vampire’s throat. He rolled from the bush and came up shooting, using up the last of his magazine to drop the other three guards with burning wounds, though regrettably, in non-lethal places. He quickly exchanged the spent magazine with a fresh one and walked over to the vampire with the thicker accent.

“If I’m not mistaken, Tommy is in hell now, along with the two who were with him.” He put the barrel of his pistol against the vampire’s forehead. “Would you like me to send you to him?”

The demon’s eyes were large, his mouth agape. “You’re...you’re—!”

“I’m your angel of death.” He shattered the vampire’s skull.

The others moaning on the ground were of no consequence. If they couldn’t move for the silver poison running through their veins, there was no need to waste more bullets finishing them. Instead, Isaiah made for the door, stopping only to retrieve his thrown dagger. With both hands on ‘Nex, he kicked the door open and stepped inside.

Too many pairs of eyes to count all swiveled in his direction. For a moment, silent tension hung thick in the air, then a voice called out, “It’s him! It’s Blackbourne!”

Upon mention of the name, the vampires nearest to Isaiah shrank back with sibilant hisses. He couldn’t help but smirk a little. “You already know me? But do you know Lunaris Nex?” He raised the pistol and took aim at the first vampire on which his eyes settled. “It will teach you to fear both the sun and the moon.” Two seconds later, his target collapsed in an unmoving heap.

The mass of vampires were dumbstruck for only a moment. When they finally realized that he was only one against several hundred, they became unified in their purpose. Like waves, they surged forward, seeking to break over Isaiah. But the hunter was prepared for just such a situation and immediately scaled the nearest section of the wall until he was on top of a small roof that jutted out. Here, there would be room for only a few of the demons rather than the whole horde of them.

Picking them off would be child’s play.

Still seated on the wall of the castle, Demmy frowned as he looked around. Counting up the figures in his mind, his mood worsened and worsened. When he’d agreed to deal with some vampires, he hadn’t expected this to be what he’d find. The castle was riddled with dozens upon dozens of vampires. Some were roughhousing in the courtyard, some were roaming the halls, some were silent in the many rooms of the structure, and just as many were asleep in the cellar.

Demmy lowered himself down onto the floor of the uppermost level. He stayed crouched so as to avoid being seen. He tried to be as quiet as he possibly could. He wasn’t incredibly familiar with vampires. If everything he’d heard was true, they would most certainly have sight and hearing much more acute than that of humans.

After taking one last look at the busy courtyard below, Demmy crept over to the nearest door. He convinced himself that there was no one on the other side and opened it as soundlessly as he could.

Darkness engulfed Demmy. The only light in the room was the faint glow of the moon from under the door. Demmy began to emit pulses of psychic energy that would act as his eyes in the dark. As the energy passed throughout the room, Demmy began to sweat. He wasn’t alone.

“He’ll kill you.”

“No,” said a man, “he’ll kill us.”

Dimitri swallowed nervously. He seemed to be inside what had once been a small hospital wing. In one of the back corners were two figures. Although sightless, Demmy could tell that one was a man and one was a woman. Both were vampires. The two laid on top of one of the several beds. The male was on top of his companion and they were pressed tightly together.

“I don’t exactly like the sound of that,” she said as her lover kissed his way down her chest. Her shirt was torn down the middle.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, coming up for a breath. “If he were here now, do you really think he could stop me from doing anything I like to you? Nothing’s getting in my way tonight.”

Demmy felt the woman’s pulse grow faster. “Prove it.”

As he turned to open the door, Demmy heard something incredibly frightening from behind him. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. “What?” asked the male.

“I think I hear something.”

“Don’t **** with me. He said he was going hunting tonight.”

“Not him,” barked the woman, pushing the man off of her. “I think there’s someone in the room. I can smell them.” The two vampires got to their feet and peered through the darkness. Their eyes were well adjusted, but even they couldn’t see in near complete darkness.

Demmy crawled away from the glow of the doorway.

“You’re right! I hear it too.” The psychic cursed at himself in his mind and held his breath. “If that’s you, Erik, I’ll rip the flesh from your bones, I swear.”

Thinking as fast as he could, Demmy stood up. He couldn’t risk letting these two vampires alert the rest of the clan. He needed to do something with them. “I’m not Erik.” The male vampire hissed upon hearing the unfamiliar voice. In the next split second, Demmy was tackled. He fell backwards and tried to keep the snarling mouth from his face. At the same time, he could hear the woman moving for the door.

“Get Erik and Raphael!” shouted the man. Demmy did the only thing he could. He knocked the vampire off of his chest with a powerful psychic push and then aimed a hand at the door. A blast of psychic energy soared through the blackness and collided with the female. She was sent flying backwards and smashed into a bedpost.

There was quiet for a moment before the male got back to his feet. This was followed by another hiss. A second lunge at Demmy was met by a devastating fist to the stomach. Before he had the chance to recover, the vampire felt an elbow crash down against the back of his neck. The last thing the vampire felt was a cold hand against his forehead.

Despite the silencing of the first vampire, a second evil hiss rang out through the room. Demmy swung his arm out just in time to catch the side of the female. She hit the wall with a thud and slid to the floor. For the first time since the beginning of the confrontation, Demmy moved first. Before the woman could regain her balance, he landed on top of her and had a hand around her throat.

“I’m sorry.” This was met with another violent hiss. He could feel the woman’s anger through his own touch, pulsing through her veins. As the hisses grew louder, Demmy tightened his grip and the woman’s body grew limp.

He needed to be more careful. Before opening the door once more, he sent psychic energy through it to check for danger. Once he’d determined that it was safe, he opened the door and stepped back out onto the stone balcony. As he regained his sight, he began to manipulate the light around his body to conceal his presence.

Now invisible, he peered into the courtyard once more. He was surprised by what he saw. Two storeys down, he saw a man standing on one of the rooftops. The man was wielding a pistol and was about to come into a very unhappy bunch of vampires.

OoC: Not too much new going on here, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. ^^;

IC:

Had a casual observer strolled past Tamworth Castle at that moment, he would have been dumbstruck by the scene illuminated in the moon’s glow. Vampires crawled up the walls of a single tower like black ants. The occasional scream mixed with the hisses flying through the air.

Isaiah stood his ground, despite the huge numbers of fangs coming for his throat. He did not usually confront this many vampires openly, but the adrenaline rushing through him spurred on his uncharacteristically reckless actions. He was not without tactical advantage, since there was only so much room on the roof itself. The second a vampire showed its head over the edge, one of his pistol’s silver bullets found a new home in the creature’s skull.

Ammunition was limited, however, and it was not long before Isaiah decided to conserve his remaining three magazines. With ‘Nex holstered, his hands were free for the assured grip of Acerbus. The obsidian sword quickly went to work, slicing heads from snarling vampires left and right. Though Isaiah had slain many of the demons, more continued to pour from undiscovered crannies and deep shadows everywhere. There seemed to be no end to them. In that contemplative area of his brain, isolated from the stress of battle, he wondered where all of these vampires had come from and for what purpose they had been gathered here.

As the scene played out before the psychic's eyes, it instilled in him a genuine sense of awe. He'd been in his fair share of fights before, but never had he seen this sort of spectacle. It was not the sheer odds stacked against the lone warrior that impressed him, but rather the finesse with which he dispelled his vampiric foes. As the blade sliced through pale skin, Demmy couldn't help but wince from beneath his cloak, not because he couldn't picture himself doing the same, but because he imagined the feel of the cold blade against his own neck.

Several times Demmy considered jumping into the fray to help the unknown man, but each time he was left teetering on the fence. Whenever he suspected a vampire would surprise the man, he spun around and impaled or sliced the monster. After minutes of this indecision, with no visible improvement on the vampires' horizon, Demmy decided to finish the task he'd been sent to perform.

With the vampires all thoroughly distracted, Demmy hopped over the stone wall and dropped to the courtyard of the castle. He landed without a sound and looked around for an entrance to the basement. There were multiple doors leading into the corridors of the building, but no cellar entrance. It took a moment to notice the wooden trapdoor in a far corner, just below the bustling rooftop.

Still quite invisible, the psychic darted towards the cellar doors. Just before he reached the corner, he heard a terrible thud from above and shuddered. He looked up to see if he couldn't catch a view of the unlucky victim. Unfortunately for Demmy, he caught a little more than he'd expected. A body (a rather lively one, considering the sizable hole in its chest) hit him in the shoulder and laid him prostrate on the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," he spat as he pushed the body off of his own. The vampire groaned and rolled about in the grass for a few seconds until he finally stopped on his back. His head fell to the side and he shot Demmy a quizzical look for what seemed like ages.

"We got another one! Courtyard!" he screamed before his head collapsed back onto the green. Fingers crossed, Demmy waited. Possibly, just possibly, they'd all been too busy.

Ah, nope, there it is, he thought. An unpleasant chorus of hisses ensued as any and all unoccupied vampires sought out what they hoped would be a less deadly alternative to their newest plaything. He saw the first of them leaping over walls as he got to his feet.

"**** my life."

OoC - Terribly sorry that took so long. It'll never take that long again, I promise.